


I Cook, You Pay

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Breakfast, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Curtain Fic, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Imagine your OTP, Lazy Mornings, Making Out, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lazy weekend breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Cook, You Pay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluuefiire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluuefiire/gifts).



> From the prompt: Do not imagine your OTP in the kitchen cooking breakfast together, one standing at the stove as the other is hugging them from behind, resting their heads on the back of their neck and stealing sleepy kisses. I promise this will cause fluffy-cuteness overload and is not good for your health. (Tumblr - OTP Prompts)
> 
> Written for bluuefiire's birthday. Happy Birthday! (posted a week early as a special pick-me-up)
> 
> Beta by newnumbertwo and laura_mayfair. <3

Lee started, nearly losing the egg he was flipping, when Kara’s arms came around him from behind. She just stood there, and he relaxed again, flipping eggs, turning pancakes, considering how his addition of cinnamon would taste when the pancakes were done. Kara grumbled, and he smiled. She hadn’t had her coffee yet.

Kara moved to his side, leaning into his arm. He snuck a peek, and she had her eyes closed. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She smiled, still with her eyes closed, and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Sleep good?”

She muttered something unintelligible and he smiled again. “How many eggs and pancakes you want?”

She shrugged.

He reached for another couple of eggs and put his arm around her shoulders. He’d long since gotten good at cooking one-handed. He figured everything could wait a few seconds, and he slid them both to the left so he could get her Best Frakkin’ Pilot Ever coffee mug out. Once he’d poured and doctored it, what little she liked, he lifted it to her nose, teasing her with the aroma.

She groaned and reached for it. He held it just out of reach and made her kiss him first.

“I’ll have the food ready in a minute.”

She nodded and disappeared, probably for the living room.

He pulled out the glass pie plates. They were his plate of choice on the weekends - the edges kept everything neatly in place. He loaded one with the pancakes and one with the eggs, added butter and syrup, and grabbed silverware. He crooked a finger in his coffee cup and headed for the living room. As he suspected, Kara was lying across the love seat, eyes closed, coffee mug on her chest. He got everything situated and said, “Hey. You hungry?”

Barely even opening her eyes, she sat up, walked over, and plopped down sideways on his lap, curling her legs up in front of her. He got some eggs on the fork and brought it over. Kara leaned forward, and he laughed. “You know I have to charge you.”

“Frakker.”

“You love me.”

“Whatever. I love eggs.” But she tilted her face and kissed his cheek.

He fed her little by little, exacting a kiss of some sort with every bite. By the time they were done, Kara had syrup on her chin, and she snaked her tongue out to get what she could reach. He tipped up her chin and sucked softly around her mouth, cleaning up thoroughly. He worked his way down her jaw.

“Hey. There’s no syrup down there.”

“Are you sure?” He smiled against her neck as he kept kissing her.

“Mmm. Maybe I was wrong.”

The raspy purr of her voice slid across his skin, awakening his senses to the promise inherent in their play.

He couldn’t really say if there was one way to make love to Kara that he liked best, but the lazy loving on the weekends was without question in his top five. She let him take his time, pamper her, and he really enjoyed the slower pace.


End file.
